


Mirrorside

by Sapphylicious



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:12:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphylicious/pseuds/Sapphylicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a full-length mirror left behind by the apartment's previous occupant when Yunho moved in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirrorside

There was a full-length mirror left behind by the apartment's previous occupant when Yunho moved in. He found it there in the corner of the empty living room; a tall, tilted rectangle of polished glass set in a modern black frame with a matching stand. There were no ornate designs, and small nicks and scuff marks showed on the outer edges, so it didn't appear to be particularly valuable. For whatever reason, the owner simply left it.

Yunho debated over what to do with it, but the issue faded in importance as he and his friend brought his stuff in. Luckily, he was on the second floor, so they only had to lug everything up one flight of stairs. After some tricky maneuvering with the couch through the doorway, they set the furniture down and collapsed, exhausted, on the seats. Yunho glanced at the mirror and saw his own reflection from the corner of his eye. Getting rid of it suddenly seemed like too much effort.

"I'll keep it," he said aloud, letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. It was a nice ceiling, not covered in water stains like his last place had been. The new apartment was in much better condition, maybe a bit smaller, but for roughly the same rent.

"Keep what?" Changmin asked beside him in a mildly grumpy tone, eyes shut. He'd probably stayed up late again working on a paper, and given the chance he'd fall asleep right there on the couch. Yunho had half the mind to let him.

"The mirror," he clarified with an unnoticed shrug. "No harm in letting it stay there, I guess."

Changmin made a small noise in acknowledgment. Then, with a grin slowly curving on his lips, he said sneakily, "It's probably cursed. That's why it was left here."

"It is not." Yunho pretended that the mere thought didn't make his skin crawl. He looked back towards it, but the mirror only stood there innocuously. Hearing Changmin's knowing snicker, he decided he was definitely keeping it.

#

Yunho practically forgot the mirror existed for a few days, and by then he was comfortably settled into the new place. Classes kept him busy most of the time, until one evening he received a call that opened with:

"Why didn't I get invited to the party?!"

He blinked and paused in the doorway of his apartment, cell phone in one hand and his backpack half-slung in the other. Yunho slowly closed the door behind him and tossed the backpack onto the table. "Hello, Junsu," he greeted. "What party?"

"Your housewarming party! I heard from Changmin – Changmin! – that you finally moved. Are we not friends anymore?"

"Of course not— Wait, _what housewarming party?_ " Yunho had never spoken of, or even considered, having any such thing.

"Well, you're having one, right? And I'm invited, right?"

"Yes," Yunho said carefully in his explaining-to-Junsu voice. "I would invite you to my _theoretical_ housewarming party. I hadn't actually planned on throwing one. It doesn't seem necessary."

There was a long pause that made Yunho wonder if Junsu had gotten distracted by something shiny. Then, "So what you're saying is that you don't want an excuse to see me again _after so long_ because we never see each other anymore and that our friendship has suffered an irreparable rift that will never mend and—" Muffled noises. "—Shut up, Yoochun, I know what 'irreparable' means!"

Yunho picked up Yoochun's laughter over the line and his own snickers followed. "Tell you what. If you want to take the train two hours to get here on some weekend, we can have a casual housewarming party. Our friendship may yet be salvaged."

"Jung Yunho, a two-hour train ride is not that much of a sacrifice, so don't act like it is, you ass," Junsu informed in a tone that probably included some finger-shaking on his end.

"Yes, Junsu," Yunho agreed complacently, walking into his small kitchen to verify what he already knew – he didn't keep much food here, not enough to feed a group. He'd probably need to go grocery shopping.

"Good." Some more noise filtered through, accompanied by Yoochun urging, "ask him, ask him!" Junsu made shushing sounds before launching eagerly into, "So what's this I hear about your new apartment being haunted?"

"Seriously, Junsu, I'd question the reliability of your information source," Yunho replied dryly. _Changmin and his big mouth._ "My apartment is perfectly normal and devoid of supernatural activity."

"Are you sure? No strange sounds at night? No flickering lights? Bambi isn't being moved bit by bit across your bed and looking more sinister with each passing day?"

"Don't you dare bring Bambi into this!" Yunho went into the living room and dropped down on the couch, refusing to peek into his bedroom to check on the innocent plush toy. Unfortunately, this put him within view of the mirror that still stood in the corner, reflecting back the image of him sitting down and part of the kitchen behind him. He stared directly at it because of course it wasn't haunted, Changmin only pulled that idea out of thin air because he knew it would get a reaction. "You'll see when you're here, my apartment is totally boring."

"Not after you see this DVD I'm bringing," Junsu said with an alarming hint of glee. It was about as evil as Junsu ever sounded.

"No horror movies in my apartment!"

In the background he heard Yoochun plead, "You have to watch it with us, hyung! Or I'll have to watch it with him alone!"

"Take one for the team, Park." Yunho glanced again at the mirror. "You're the one who decided to live with him."

"Then you can imagine what I've been subjected to all this time!"

"Pussies," Junsu announced in a loud enough voice to make Yunho pull the phone away from his ear. "Both of you!"

#

Yunho woke up with a start, and then he winced when the back of Changmin's hand smacked him in the face and Junsu's elbow got him in the ribs. They were partly tangled up on the couch, having fallen asleep during their movie-watching. Junsu had succeeded in browbeating everyone into watching his DVD, but they all insisted on recovering with something less scary afterwards. The last thing Yunho could remember was staring at the increasingly-blurry subtitles of an American film Changmin recommended.

"Sorry," Yoochun's voice apologized softly from behind him. "Did I wake you?"

Yunho twisted around (ignoring the twinge of pain from the crick in his neck) to look up at his friend, who was vaguely illuminated by the light from the kitchen. Yoochun rested one hand on the back of the couch and held a glass of water in the other. "Not a problem," Yunho assured. "Can't sleep? Not that we're exactly comfortable like this..." Changmin flailed in his sleep again as if to agree.

Yoochun avoided the hazardous limbs with ease and grinned in the semi-darkness. "You know me, always the insomniac."

Yunho worked an arm free and covered the back of Yoochun's hand with his fingers. "Use my bed when you feel like it. These two losers aren't going anywhere, so—" 

There was a ripple of movement behind Yoochun, like a shiver that Yunho felt go straight up his spine. He jumped, dislodging the two others on the couch and startling Yoochun into spilling his water, partly on Yunho's shoulder but mostly on Junsu's face.

Junsu sputtered awake and Changmin hit the floor with a yelp.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" Yunho said to both of them, and he was met with cranky glares and complaints. Yoochun was no help – he had doubled over and was practically rolling around in laughter.

"What was that for?" Junsu demanded, wiping his face.

Yunho opened his mouth, but no words came out. He couldn't explain it. He snuck a glance to the mirror standing by the wall, right where he thought he'd seen something, but there was nothing unusual in its reflection. There was just Yoochun hitting the ground weakly with his fist, shoulders shaking.

"I thought I..." He slowly shook his head. "It was nothing. Sorry."

#

Yunho examined the mirror the next morning but found nothing amiss with it.

"It's cursed~" Changmin sang as he walked by, and Junsu burst into a fit of snickers.

Yunho pointedly ignored Changmin and pinned Junsu with a look. "You're going to miss your train. Where's Yoochun?"

"Here," Yoochun answered tiredly as he shuffled into view, soon honing in on Junsu – or rather, the mug of coffee in Junsu's hand. Junsu kept his grip, but allowed Yoochun to guide the drink to his mouth for a swallow (or two, or several).

Meanwhile, Junsu was protesting, "We have plenty of time!"

"He's so eager to kick us out," Changmin added.

"He never used to be this cruel. Grad school is sucking out his kind, compassionate soul."

"Hmm. Or that could be the mirror."

"What about the mirror?" Yoochun asked, blinking groggily over the mug.

"You know, the cursed one." Changmin suddenly snapped his fingers. "That's what freaked you out last night, right? Ooh, spooky."

Denial leapt to Yunho's lips. "No, shut up, that had nothing to do—"

" _Oh my God_ ," Yoochun interrupted.

Shockwave effect: everyone's heads turned immediately to the mirror in mingled anticipation. They held their breaths as they looked...

...And saw Yoochun duck into the back of the apartment. The sound of a door slamming shut snapped them out of their confusion.

"Okay..." Changmin began slowly, only to be cut off by Junsu's dismayed shout.

"Park Yoochun!" he hollered, marching towards the door of the bathroom and shaking his empty mug. "You drank all of my coffee, you heathen!"

Yunho collapsed into the nearest chair, both his heart and his head pounding.

Miraculously, Junsu and Yoochun did not miss their train.

#

Yunho started to sneak looks at the mirror in his spare moments. He hated to entertain Changmin's joke of a theory, and logically he knew it had been late at night, he'd been tired and the room was dark, and the remnants of Junsu's horror movie were on his mind. Still, he couldn't help thinking back to all of the stories about mirrors; how kids dared each other to call upon Bloody Mary, how vampires had no reflection, how you broke one and got seven years of bad luck. Mirrors captured souls. Mirrors reflected truth.

But whenever he looked, he saw only himself and the mundane interior of his apartment.

"This is completely stupid," Yunho said to himself one day, standing defiantly in front of the object that, at the very least, haunted his thoughts. He stretched his arm out to touch the smooth black frame, adjusting the tilt of the mirror. There was nothing weird about it, no eerie tingling or other inexplicable sensation. He sighed a little and let his fingers glide over the cool glass.

His hand passed over his image. 

A second face appeared over his shoulder.

Yunho snatched his hand away and whirled, for a moment feeling like he was choking on his own air, but there was nothing behind him. There was a thundering sound in his ears – his own racing pulse – and he nearly gave himself whiplash to look again at the mirror.

Nothing.

He breathed out— and then sharply inhaled.

A person. Just a glimpse. In and out of view of the reflection, like a moving picture within the frame, like a TV. A young man with dark hair and pale skin, _ghosting by_ , behind Yunho, paying him no mind but was surely there, _surely_ , not a trick of the light or a faint blur or a—

Yunho stumbled back a step, then two, and then he was scrambling out the door. Out of the building. Out.

#

He considered moving again. He immediately rejected it. There was insane, and then there was _insane_.

Yunho reasoned with himself: it was only the mirror. It wasn't like his dishes were levitating or the walls were oozing blood. No flickering lights. No strange noises.

He thought about telling Changmin – he even thought about making Changmin accompany him back to the apartment.

Then he thought about trying to show Changmin what he saw, and Changmin not seeing it, and maybe Yunho was just imagining things after all. He was fairly stressed, after all, he had midterms coming up. He was perhaps overly conscious of the mirror to begin with (no thanks to some people).

Thus convincing himself, he eventually made his way back home, entering hesitantly and turning on the lights. Everything appeared quiet and normal; normal was good. Yunho steeled himself and inched further inside, into view of the mirror.

His hand gripped the back of a chair and he leaned against it, jaw dropping.

It was the same person as before, looking just as solid as Yunho's own reflection, as if both of them were there in the room. This time he was sitting on the couch, half-curled and gazing towards where the TV would be, as if watching. 

"Um," Yunho said, frozen to the spot. " _Um._ "

Breathe, breathe (he breathed in short, staggered breaths). Finally, he managed to utter a hoarse, but louder, "Hey!"

No response.

Yunho slid down to the floor, staring at the mirror in a daze.

#

"Really," Changmin said in a tone that made Yunho want to shake him. Instead he placed his hands on the other's shoulders and stood behind him, both of them in front of the mirror.

"Really." At least, Yunho hoped so. In his mind he figured this had a fifty percent chance of failing miserably. Changmin wouldn't see it and therefore wouldn't believe him, and Yunho would never, ever escape the teasing. In short, it would be a nightmare.

They stood like that for a whole minute. Changmin stared firmly at the reflection, but as time steadily trickled by Yunho saw the skepticism rise in increments on his face.

"I'm not crazy," Yunho stated hurriedly, desperately, thinking, _damn, damn, damn._

Changmin's expression was twisted in evident conflict, part of him clearly ready to scoff and another part genuinely concerned. "Yunho, perhaps—"

And there, _right there_ , the ghost. Spirit. Thing. Or whatever – he went through them this time, and his body did fade and go indistinct when his image overlapped with theirs, and Yunho shivered from the sight alone.

Changmin suddenly leaned into his hands, back bumping into Yunho's chest.

"All right," he said with a new expression Yunho had never seen before. He supposed it was Changmin's 'speechless' face. "Okay."

#

Changmin wanted to experiment. Of course Changmin wanted to experiment. Yunho didn't know why he thought Changmin would want to do anything else, anything helpful, like make the problem go away.

"Is it really a problem?" Changmin asked, grabbing the mirror by the stand and lifting it. Yunho had steadfastly refused to touch it or take part in the whole scheme ("You can get your soul sucked out if you want to," he'd said, ignoring Changmin's snort).

He observed with some trepidation as Changmin moved the mirror from its usual corner and placed it on the opposite side, then thought about the question. Yunho admitted, "In a practical sense? I guess not. But mentally? Psychologically?" His voice rose a tiny bit. "I think it's pretty normal for me to be freaked out." 

"Well, I won't say 'I told you so'..."

His expression transformed into an immediate scowl. "Die in a fire, Shim."

Changmin fiddled with the angle a bit until it reflected certain parts of the room – namely, the kitchen. "And the landlord doesn't know anything?"

Yunho tried not to fidget. He was failing. "I asked about the previous occupant, but he said the person before me was a woman and he didn't know where she was."

"Boring."

Yunho stared at him. He found absolutely none of this boring.

Changmin was frowning at the mirror and checking his watch. "I guess we just have to wait."

They ended up studying for their respective midterms there in the living room, papers and books lying open on the small table, checking the mirror periodically. An hour went by and there was so sign of the unknown young man. Yunho gained hope – maybe it had to be positioned in a specific area for it to 'work'. Changmin didn't seem to care either way; it was only curiosity that encouraged him.

Yunho flicked his gaze up, then back down to his textbook. A minute passed and he did this again. He sighed, acknowledging that the words on the page had become an incomprehensive jumble and he needed a break.

"Want anything while I'm up?" he asked, pushing his book away and getting to his feet.

"It's caffeine o'clock," came Changmin's answer as he put his pen down and did a neck roll to ease the stiffness from his muscles. "Mm, also time for fourth meal."

"Fourth meal?"

"There's breakfast, lunch, dinner, and fourth meal. Duh."

"...Right." Yunho rolled his eyes but examined the contents of his fridge (which was mostly barren, as usual, given that he lived alone and cooked like – well, like a university student). He pulled out a box of leftover pizza and contemplated the half-empty two-liter bottle of soda that was probably flat and gross. He took it anyway; waste not, want not, or whatever.

"Yunho."

"Hm?" He poured two glasses. "Should I microwave the pizza, or is it fine cold?"

"Heat it up – just because we're penniless students doesn't mean we're animals. Also, look this way."

To Yunho's credit, he didn't spill anything when he raised his head, half-expecting what he saw in the mirror: the image of the young man standing next to him in the kitchen, lifting the lid of the pizza box and curling a lip. The actual box sat undisturbed on the counter.

"Huh," Changmin said. "Maybe he doesn't like pepperoni."

#

Yunho got used to it, sort of. He kept the mirror mainly because he felt just enough guilt to not make it someone else's problem.

"Maybe it's only this apartment," Changmin suggested.

"You want to test it at your place?"

"Hell, no. I'm not carrying that thing all the way to campus in the name of science."

"Why am I friends with you again?"

"You could just get rid of it. You know. There's a dumpster out back."

Yunho knew, but that seemed like a terrible idea, practically asking for unpleasant consequences.

Not that the mirror was ever threatening. To be honest, it was essentially a dull practice to observe a reflected apparition going about his daily life – though it was plenty eerie and more than a little voyeuristic. They'd tested the mirror in various places around the apartment with the exceptions of the bathroom and bedroom, and Changmin had raised a brow but refrained from verbally commenting on this oddly-placed respect of privacy.

Yunho took to throwing a sheet over the mirror (out of sight, out of mind), but that hardly worked. Unable to help himself, he would check the reflection from time to time, wondering if the inexplicable image would be gone. It never was, not for good.

Yunho got used to it, and after a while he stopped checking 'to see if he's gone', instead verifying whether or not 'he's still there'.

#

Not for the first time, Yunho looked into the mirror and watched as the young man checked every cupboard in the kitchen. There was a small wrinkle on his brow and his lips were pursed in a thin line – he shut one of the cabinets with enough force that Yunho expected to hear the slam, and was more surprised by the ensuing silence. The stranger interacted with everything in the mirror, never to any effect in the real world – or Yunho's world, because he was seriously beginning to question his concept of reality these days.

He leaned closer to the glass surface as the other man scribbled something on a post-it note and stuck it to the refrigerator with a firm smack before moving beyond view. Yunho squinted at the writing, but the distance was too great. He looked over his shoulder at the bare face of the refrigerator door and sighed, grabbing the mirror by the stand with both hands and hauling it closer.

He almost expected a note addressed to himself because why not? 'Dear Jackass, buy more food.' But he ended up blinking at what appeared to be a grocery list. Mundane and unaware, just like everything else the guy did.

The next time he was out, Yunho picked up the items he could remember from the list. _An experiment_ , part of him reasoned. _A waste of money, time, and common sense_ , argued another.

Later, Yunho watched with an unsettling degree of satisfaction as the mirror's occupant searched the kitchen again and happily brought out the fresh vegetables.

_This is insane_ , Yunho thought. He saw the water run in the sink, the knife catching the light as it chopped, and the steam rising from the pan. The other's image moved around him, occasionally through him in a cloud of mist, lips moving as though speaking to himself – no, he was singing, body swaying to a rhythm as he moved from counter to stove.

Yunho saw it all, but heard nothing, no clang of the pan or sizzle of the stir-fry, no voice singing in quiet, casual tones. There was no aroma of soy sauce or garlic rising from the cooking, though the sight of it was enough to get his mouth-watering. No heat from the stove, nothing. 

He closed his eyes and slumped over on the cool countertop. 

_This is insane,_ he repeated in his head, listening to the stale quiet.

#

Yunho learned of the other man's habits with a guilty sort of fascination, unable to think about it scientifically. He couldn't pretend to be detached like Changmin did. The person in the mirror seemed to really enjoy cooking – he was excellent at it if the look of the food was any indication. More often than not, Yunho wished it was real. Fortunately (or unfortunately), he didn't possess the funds to continuously buy everything for ingredients, which he couldn't use himself anyway and they'd just go to waste. He had to move the mirror so it didn't face the kitchen since part of him hated to disappoint his mysterious kind-of-housemate (another part of Yunho was completely stricken that he'd feel bad for such a thing, that he'd be in such a situation).

The young man could also be found watching TV or reading a book, lounging on the couch with his head propped up on one hand and a pair of glasses perched on his nose (staring intently at one of Yunho's law books once before giving it up with an expressive sigh, shoulders shrugging and a grimace on his face). Sometimes he would simply lie there, stretched out with an arm flung over his eyes in apparent boredom, or he'd be holding a cell phone up and punching in a text message (Yunho never managed to catch sight of a number). Sometimes he appeared to be speaking – or singing, earbuds peeking out beneath black hair as he scrolled through music on an mp3 player. Sometimes he wasn't around at all, and Yunho saw him come and go occasionally through the doorway. He wasn't so desperately curious to consider placing the mirror out in the hallway to test the apartment-only theory.

He did work up the nerve to try putting it in the bedroom though. It was midday and the image of the man didn't show up anywhere in the room, but that made sense since he did seem to maintain a normal sleep schedule.

Then evening came, and there was still no sign. Yunho sat on his bed with a worn paperback novel open in his hands, but his attention was frequently distracted by the mirror. He wasn't sure if he could actually bring himself to sleep with it there, even if it wasn't haunted. But it was also late, and he was tired, so he just covered it with a spare sheet and turned off the light.

#

The world was comforting and black, lassitude settled deep in all his limbs and his chest rising and falling with steady, even breaths. Undisturbed and peaceful. There was a source of warmth pressing against his back. Yunho dismissed it, half-asleep, brain piecing together some memory of an ex-girlfriend who had liked to cling. He reached blindly for the arm loosely curled over him and found the wrist thicker than expected (but easy to grip), the hand more square (still soft-skinned), and the fingers not as slim (that nevertheless twined with his). The scent, too, was different, a gentle musk that he turned toward, curiously almost-waking. He gazed for a sleepy second at the pale face that mumbled something unintelligible, cheek seeking the pillow of his shoulder.

 _Ah_ , Yunho thought in contentment, and then finally the shock rose up like a bubble through dark water, and popped.

"Ahh!"

His world was suddenly pierced with light and his body was jolted as he rolled and tumbled gracelessly off the bed. Morning sunlight poured cheerfully through the window and Yunho flailed his way out of the tangled sheet. There was a second one already pooled on the floor, and he stared ahead wide-eyed at his uncovered reflection – bedhead, stubble, and all – and then beyond to where—

He yelped again, a rather embarrassing sound, and turned red. Yunho scrambled to his feet and threw the sheet over the mirror where it had been last night, obscuring the image of the young man sound asleep while stretched out on the mattress, completely nude.

The next night, Yunho slept on the couch.

#

It wouldn't be the last time that he found himself in such a strange situation.

Yunho opened his eyes with a peculiar lack of lingering sleep, gazing with a detached sort of surprise into dark nothingness. It was like looking into a void, disorienting and incomprehensible, but when he took stock he could easily make out his own form. He wasn't as troubled as he should be, and he knew he should be. He was sitting up in bed, which was visible in the same curious way his body was, lit without a discernable source of light.

Hearing a soft sigh nearby, he wasn't shocked to see the familiar figure lying prone beside him. The other man was also awake, arms hugging the single pillow and looking as blasé as Yunho felt. They stared at one another for a while.

Then Yunho took in his surroundings once more, again with nothing but a calm, inquisitive air. "This is a dream, isn't it?" The normal tone of his own voice startled him more than anything else so far.

He wasn't sure whether to expect an answer, but he got one in a partially-muffled undertone: "That's right. You stumbled in late and were out the moment your head hit the pillow." A small smile showed and his lashes fluttered as he pressed his cheek into said pillow – as if to say, 'I can't blame you'.

"I'm dreaming," Yunho repeated, affirming to himself. "I'm dreaming this, you... Am I— Am I in the mirror?"

The man hummed. "See for yourself."

Yunho looked automatically to the area next to his bed, and where nothing had been before, the mirror appeared now. He saw himself, alone, sprawled in a heap on top of the blankets with his clothes and one untied shoe still on. The rest of his room was just as he would expect it, faintly lit with the first shy rays of early morning.

Finally, _finally_ , a quiver of panic set in. "Am I trapped?"

He heard laughter – not a malicious sound, it was clear and fueled by amusement. "You're only visiting."

"Then... I can go back? I can wake up?"

"...Sure." No more mirth.

Yunho turned to see him again, but the other's eyes were closed, his features neutral. "Um. Are you..." No, wrong question. " _Who_ are you?"

The eyes opened. He was smiling again.

And Yunho was waking up to the sound of a car horn blaring outside, head swimming with echoes and jumbled thoughts. His entire left arm was numb and tingling from being slept on, but he rolled himself over and sat up groggily. There was the mirror. There was his reflection, blinking back at him. There was the other one, sleeping and quite content.

#

The days passed, and Yunho really began to worry that he was going crazy. He wasn't sure what triggered it – simply falling asleep in front of the mirror didn't always result in the dreamscape, only on occasion. The third time he found himself there (same place, same eerie nothingness all around), the other's face was hovering over him, waiting.

"I'm Jaejoong," he said in a rush, like he was afraid that the dream would end at any moment, unannounced. It was probably a valid concern. "And you. Well. You're back."

"Seems like it." He didn't know if he should be alarmed or comforted by the repeat experience. For now he settled for not thinking about it. "So, uh. You know me?"

He – Jaejoong (a name; he had a name and a voice and warmth and flesh) – brightened into a grin. "I know you."

"But you never... Out there..." Yunho looked to the mirror, frowning. When he was on the other side, Jaejoong's image still seemed oblivious.

"Of course, that's _out there_." Like that explained it.

"Are you real?" Yunho asked, obviously confused.

Jaejoong sounded equally lost: "Am I?"

#

No matter how much Yunho asked, or what he asked, he never found out much about the other young man. Jaejoong really didn't seem to know, or would respond with a shrug and blank expression, going cold. He warmed again easily enough – all Yunho needed to do was ask him something he had an answer for, or give him any kind of attention. Jaejoong could chatter on endlessly, and it was odd the things he knew and the things he didn't. He was up to date on current events, on popular trends, and could accurately state the day, month, and year ("I'm not _retarded_ , I do read and watch TV. I go out. I just... don't remember when I do.") He was well-educated, but couldn't say from where ("I've seen your books; I doubt I'd go into law.") On the topic of family, he was at a loss ("I'd want to have siblings, lots of them. You know? I'd want people in my life. What do you mean you want twenty daughters? Are you trying to kill somebody?")

Yunho could guess by his occasional slips into dialect that he would be from the Chungcheong region, and once half-jokingly suggested taking a trip there to ask around. Jaejoong's response was mixed; absolutely thrilled one moment and acutely depressed the next. Yunho didn't bring it up again. Thinking about it, he could understand the reaction – how hope and fear made him rise and fall so plainly.

Yunho settled. It was good like this, with the two of them, and maybe he was losing his mind but that mattered less and less. He was coming home to something – someone. Yunho couldn't say that he was lacking in his social life since he had plenty of friends, some of them quite close, but Jaejoong seemed to fill spaces that Yunho hadn't been aware of. He had a quick, sometimes erratic mind, prone to wandering off the beaten path and making capricious leaps of logic. Following his train of thought, or attempting to, often landed Yunho in interesting places.

It wasn't always lightspeed and bedazzlement. There were the slow times, the quiet times, the two of them side-by-side in bed and speaking softly or not at all. Almost as close as lovers, with all the ease and familiarity. Jaejoong was a welcome presence, though he always hogged the pillow.

"You should get more," he said, voice drowsy as he lay relaxed on his stomach, the sheet slipping down to bare his muscled shoulders and back. He had an admirable figure, no one could deny that. Yunho would think of models and idols, beautiful people meant to be looked at. He thought of mirrors, of looking glass.

"You would just hoard them all," Yunho accused lightly, his tone fond rather than reproaching, and the crescent tip of Jaejoong's smile was a guilty admission.

Jaejoong craved attention; he delighted in it, brightening whenever they were face-to-face and seeming dimmer when they were separated. For the most part, Yunho was pleased to indulge him, and in a way he also indulged himself. Jaejoong noticed, and it was Jaejoong who laid down the law.

"I know I'm fantastic company," he began one day, a frown sitting contemplatively upon his features, "but don't you have a big, nasty term paper to be working on?"

"Due at the end of the term, yes. Hence the name."

Jaejoong extended an arm to smack him on the shoulder, not lightly, but Yunho exaggerated his wince a little. "Don't be a smartass, it doesn't become you. And neither does slacking."

"I'm not slacking." He was well-aware of that paper and his progress. True, he wasn't exactly working ahead of schedule, but he wasn't terribly behind either.

Jaejoong narrowed his eyes and guessed his thoughts. "You also know the workloads for your other classes are going to pile up real soon."

"Happens every semester around this time of year." Yunho shrugged, but experience warned him that this time next week he would be hating life. He could see what Jaejoong was getting at, written there in his troubled expression, but Yunho was too reluctant to come out and confront it.

The look on Jaejoong's face softened and his smile was contrite. 

"And I'm an unfair distraction."

#

Yunho was roused late one evening by a hand shaking him awake.

"Come on, man, the page is going to stick to your face. I'll be able to read the print off your cheek."

With effort, Yunho lifted his head from where it lay on his open book and blinked groggily at his surroundings, readjusting his askew glasses. Rows upon rows of library shelves came into focus beyond the glowing screen of his laptop, and the clock in the lower corner indicated that it was a quarter after one in the morning. The last time he'd checked it was barely midnight.

"Shit," he muttered, punctuating it with a yawn. His neck and shoulders protested as he stretched and turned his head to Changmin. "Thanks for waking me."

"Like last night, and the night before that..." There was a pause, and Yunho felt Changmin's eyes on him as he gathered up his things. "Is something up?"

"Just classes. You know." He unplugged the power cord to his laptop and shoved it in his backpack. The computer followed more carefully. He could do all of this just as easily at home, no need to camp out in the school library every night, but... Well...

"This is a bitch of a week, isn't it?"

Yunho groaned and tried not to stress over the deadlines steadily creeping up on him. "Don't even talk about it. If I only concentrate on one assignment at a time, I might survive."

"Yeah. So..." Changmin was giving him a look that was some blend of puzzled and accusatory, and since he wasn't the type to beat around the bush he straight-out asked, "Is the mirror freaking you out again? Is that why you're suddenly on-campus 24/7?"

It was still just 'the mirror' to Changmin; Yunho never told him about being on the other side and actually conversing with the— with Jaejoong. He could imagine his friend's reaction – perhaps not of skepticism, exactly, but a different kind of concern. Yunho couldn't seem to escape other people's concern.

"No," he answered truthfully. "I haven't seen anything lately. I'm just busy, that's all." There had been so sign of Jaejoong, not since that last time.

_"And I'm an unfair distraction."_

_"I think that's giving yourself too much credit."_

_"You're the one giving me too much credit. No, no, shut up. Don't talk. Listen. You shouldn't want to be here anyway. I mean, I'm glad that you do, I really— Well, the point is, you should be studying. And hanging out with your friends. And living your life out there. Didn't you say you didn't want your soul sucked into the mirror?"_

_"...Jaejoong, I don't really think my soul is getting sucked anywhere."_

_"But now you'd be okay with it if it was! And that's...not okay. You're real, you know?"_

A funny thing, to be told you're real by someone who wasn't. Or was less real. Yunho wasn't a philosopher; he didn't ponder the truth of reality. But he hadn't been back there, nor seen the smallest hint of the other man in the mirror. Maybe none of it had been real after all. Except his apartment felt _lonely_ now, and _that_ worried Yunho because between crazy and pathetic, he would prefer crazy.

"...I have to say, Yunho, hell-week or not, you need to get more rest. Quit spacing out on me."

...Right. Changmin. Library. 

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head and forcibly pushing aside those thoughts. He zipped his backpack closed and shouldered its weight, then threw an arm around Changmin on the way out. "So after all this calms down, we should have a night out. To celebrate."

"Dinner," Changmin put in immediately. "And you should pay, since you were skipping out on all sorts of social fun times even before this week."

Had he really? It hadn't seemed that way to Yunho... But when he thought of his recent socializations, he only came up with Jaejoong.

And that meant Jaejoong had been right.

"...You don't really have to pay if you don't want to."

Yunho realized he'd zoned out again and was grimacing. "Oh. No, uh. Actually, Junsu can pay."

"Junsu's coming?"

"And Yoochun," Yunho decided, beginning to grin. "Yeah, why not? They're probably going to start calling me and emailing me any day now saying I don't love them anymore."

#

At some point he had started to think of the mirror as a door. It used to be dubiously open to him, but now it was shut tight. Yunho looked at it and only saw himself, his apartment – mainly the kitchen since the mirror had been moved back to the living room – everything reflecting reality. No tantalizing hint of something else, no glimpse of something more.

_"You shouldn't want to be here anyway."_

"I don't really want to be there," he spoke casually with just a trace of awkwardness, unsure if he was merely talking to himself. He shifted a little in front of the mirror, his earnest expression self-directed (or perhaps not, he dared to hope). "I want you to be out here. You. Out here. You should be around people – and I know some great people, people who are a lot more interesting than me. I think you'd like that. So we should..."

He saw himself stop and sigh. He didn't know what this was, some weird attempt to communicate, like knocking pathetically on the door when he wasn't sure if anyone was even on the other side. Maybe this was closure. That would be pretty pitiful, too. Worse, that would be giving up.

"I think you're real," Yunho blurted out, and then immediately palmed his face in exasperation. "I mean..."

He looked again, but not at himself this time. Instead he focused beyond his shoulder, at the kitchen counter and refrigerator. That was less weird than talking to his reflection. 

"No, I do mean that. I believe you when you say I'm real, so that means... I believe _you_ are real. I know that doesn't seem to make sense, and I blame you. Jaejoong-logic isn't like earth-logic, but nothing says the two can't co-exist."

Yunho figured this was sort of like leaving a voice message. In fact he felt a little like _that guy_ , the one who forgot to call and put it off for a long time. Maybe too long, but he wouldn't know until he went ahead and did it.

"So you should be out here. Studying, maybe. Hanging out with friends. Living your life. You're real, and— I miss you."

The mirror was cold and unresponsive. 

It stayed like that.

 

 

**Epilogue: six months later**

 

"Yunho, Yunho! Can we get this?"

"What is it— Oh. Oh, no, Junsu, put that back."

"It's on sale!"

Changmin stole the item out of Junsu's hands, examined the package and pulled a face. "Vetoed. I wouldn't eat this even if it was free."

"And that's saying something," Yoochun chuckled.

Yunho rolled his eyes and checked his list. Somewhere along the line he'd gotten into the habit of making grocery lists, although the current one only consisted of items that could be found at the nearby convenience store. He wasn't willing to risk the death of his kitchen to his friends and their collective anti-cooking skills.

" _I'll_ eat it, so give it back, you tall freak!"

Yunho glanced up and caught sight of a reflective surface – a mirror kept near the ceiling that allowed the store clerks to keep an eye out for shoplifting. He saw Changmin taking cruel advantage of his height by holding the package out of Junsu's reach, though any minute now Junsu was likely to resort to foul play. Before he had the chance, Changmin threw the snack over Junsu's head and Yoochun caught it with a manic grin. 

There was also an irate clerk giving them the hairy eyeball, so Yunho began, " _Children_ , please..." 

Then he saw the other figure in the mirror.

He dropped the plastic basket he was holding and it clattered noisily to the floor. There was a sense of déjà vu when he spun hard to confirm what the reflection had shown, and there, walking away right before his eyes—

"Jaejoong!"

The man turned. His expression was not a particularly friendly one, surprised and faintly confused, but it was most definitely Jaejoong down to the shape of his eyes and round curve of his jaw. His complexion was the slightest bit tanner instead of the never-seen-sunlight paleness Yunho recalled, and the hair peeking out from under a skull-patterned beanie was dyed a rich brown instead of being inky black. His shoulders were still broad, his waist still small, and even his posture was familiar.

And the voice, though wary, was also recognizable to Yunho's ears: "Do I know you?"

"You're real!"

It actually took him a moment to realize why Jaejoong was giving him that look – a blank "you've got to be kidding me" stare – and Yunho hastily backtracked.

"I mean, yes, that is..."

"Sorry, don't know you."

Struck by the absurdity of it all – Jaejoong, _here_ , a stranger – and completely incapable of finding something intelligible to say, Yunho watched, stupefied, as the man walked away from him. He was distantly aware of his friends clamoring behind him, a flurry of questions and concerns and half-hearted jibes. A hand clapped him on the shoulder and Changmin's weight leaned on him. Somehow that guy managed to sound perfectly rational and stunned at the same time.

"Talk about your dead-ringers. What are you standing here for? Find out what the hell's going on."

Yunho had been so used to the lack of explanation when it came to the mirror and Jaejoong, used to the dead-end course of conversation and the disappointment. The staleness when everything had stopped. The episode had faded, but it wasn't forgotten. Memory caught up to him, as did everyone else's voices, their noise, their contagious curiosity that made Yunho _need to know_.

So he took a few uncertain steps, pushed along by hands and words, and then flat-out dashed ahead, somehow finding the air in his lungs to shout, "Wait!"

He was wired on impulse and instinct when he reached to take hold of Jaejoong's arm, a motion that was bred from familiarity with a doppelganger, body language forgetting the distance his mind was still registering.

Jaejoong whipped around, jerking his arm away and half raising it in startled annoyance. The close proximity made his elbow crash against the side of Yunho's face – pure accident, really, and a wide-eyed Jaejoong exclaimed, "Shit!"

Yunho winced and gingerly felt his aching jaw, taking his time to assess the injury since he couldn't think of anything to say and Jaejoong seemed unlikely to leave at the moment. 

"I'm really sorry, are you okay? I didn't mean to hit you, but wow, you're kind of rude and who do you think you are? Like, what is this? Why are you harassing me? Oh, damn, I think I got you pretty good. Seriously, are you all right?"

It hurt, but the damage seemed negligible, no loose teeth or blood in his mouth. Yunho cracked a grin, mostly at Jaejoong's scattered dialogue. "I'll probably live."

Relief was easy to read on his features, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, though awkwardly. "Oh. Good. That's good, then."

"As for the other part..." Yunho searched for the way to say it without sounding completely mental, eventually giving it up as hopeless. He took a deep breath and let loose. "Well, there was a mirror, all right. And... Just listen for a moment, I swear I'm not making this up. There was the mirror and there was you, that is, _in_ the mirror, in my apartment. I guess five, six months ago? It kept happening, and then it stopped. Um, and I'm not crazy."

"...Wait." Jaejoong was looking at him oddly – and why shouldn't he be, after hearing that story? But his look of confusion was different, he appeared thoughtful, almost. 

"Six months ago?"

#

Jaejoong standing in the middle of his apartment was a familiar sight, but only as a reflection. Yunho found his gaze drawn to it out of habit, slightly unnerved when he remembered the real thing was standing right next to him. Jaejoong didn't seem to notice, staring wonderingly at the mirror. His hands touched the frame, tilting it.

"This was my sister's," he said, a brief smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "I remember it. She used to tell me those stories when I was little – the scary ones about mirrors? Freaked me out."

"I know the feeling." Yunho's breath caught when Jaejoong's eyes focused on him in the mirror. _That's normal_ , he told himself, feeling silly. "So your sister... Uh, if she wants it back—"

Jaejoong shook his head. "No, she... She's dead." There was a pause, and he continued, voice rough. "Car accident. The two of us. She didn't make it and I was in a coma for a while. Until about six months ago."

Oh. 

_Oh._

"I'm sorry," Yunho said. The words felt flimsy on his tongue, dry like paper, and insultingly insincere. Jaejoong just shrugged, gaze returning to the full length of the mirror while his fingers traced over the glass.

"It's all right. I'm all right. I'm...still here." He turned and grabbed Yunho by the arm, getting his attention. Jaejoong's eyes searched his. "That story of yours... That's pretty unbelievable. I mean, hell, it's weird and I'm kind of creeped out. But as crazy as it is, I might believe you. You haven't looked at me, really, since I came in here. You've only looked at my reflection – which, by the way, is not decreasing the creepiness."

"Sorry," Yunho said, laughing nervously. "I know, trust me, I know how insane it sounds. You don't have to... I just wanted to let you know, or something. I thought that was the right thing to do."

"Gee, thanks."

There was a familiar note in Jaejoong's voice, disappointment masked by sarcasm. Yunho had heard it enough times before. He tried again, tentatively: "I was glad to see you again."

Jaejoong stared at him. Then his lips twitched, and he smiled his awkward smile. "That's strange, to me it feels more like, 'It's nice to meet you'."

"It's nice to meet you," Yunho parroted, and this time Jaejoong laughed, covering his mouth behind a raised hand like he always did. Yunho grinned at the sight. "Let's do this properly, then. I'm Yunho. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Jaejoong, the real one. Same here."


End file.
